


boyfriends with benefits

by strawberriez8800



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, Feel-good, Fluff, M/M, Romance, hints of smut but not really, light hearted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:07:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26421613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriez8800/pseuds/strawberriez8800
Summary: “Think about it,” Eames tells Arthur. “It’s free skincare.” He has the gall to sound pleased with himself.Arthur glares at Eames, who’s all insolent smirk and brazen eyes, and Arthur almost wishes someone would walk in right now so this conversation would end. “Eames, your come on my face is not skincare.”
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 66





	boyfriends with benefits

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Boyfriends with benefits](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29579820) by [FatimaAlegra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatimaAlegra/pseuds/FatimaAlegra), [WTF Nolan Brothers 2021 (NolanBrothers)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NolanBrothers/pseuds/WTF%20Nolan%20Brothers%202021)



> Oh, it's been a good minute since my last Arthur/Eames fic.

“Arthur,” Eames says for the fourth time.

Arthur, of course, ignores him for the fourth time from his desk, because they’re in the office and anyone could walk in at any moment and get first-hand proof as to why exactly office romances are terrible ideas.

(Not that it’s ever stopped anyone, especially Arthur and Eames.)

“Think about it,” Eames continues. “It’s free skincare.” The bastard has the gall to sound pleased with himself.

Arthur swivels on his chair until he faces Eames. He glares at Eames, who’s all insolent smirk and brazen eyes, and Arthur almost wishes someone would walk in right now so this conversation would fucking end _._ “Eames, your come on my face is _not skincare_.”

“Darling, with what you’ve been feeding me for the past two years, I have the utmost confidence in my production of—”

Ariadne returns with the Chinese takeout she promised, and thank fucking _god_ Eames shuts up instantly. Arthur schools his face into a neutral mask from what must’ve been abject horror mixed with accidental arousal, and instead focuses his attention on the stir-fry aroma.

Eames is relentless, however, because Arthur receives a text from him.

_[Eames, 1:31 PM]: Quid pro quo, love. Tell me what you want._

_[Arthur, 1:32 PM]: What I want: 1) My eyes well away from your cum because I don’t wanna go blind, 2) No foreign substances on my face that did not come out of a lab. I like my skin the way it is._

_[Eames, 1:32 PM]: 1) If my cum could blind people, I’d know by now, and 2) I’m hurt you’d consider me a foreign substance. Besides, I love you, perfect skin or not._

Arthur meets Eames’s gaze and mouths a ‘that’s unfair’ from across the space. Eames simply blows him a kiss.

“Guys,” Ariadne says, mildly perturbed, as she opens her takeout container from her desk next to Arthur. “I’m right here.”

Eames and Arthur turn back to their work.

* * *

In the darkness of their living room, the laptop screen glows a dull white-blue on Arthur’s lap. He’s reading an article about facials of the debauched sort when Eames, freshly showered, sidles up next to Arthur on the couch. Eames’s shampoo makes him smell like black walnut and cedar, like a faint pleasant dream, and Arthur leans into him, instinctive.

 _“Protein in semen, beneficial for skin, blah blah,”_ Eames reads from Arthur’s laptop. “See, this sex guru agrees.”

“You’re missing the part where it says there’s not enough protein to make a difference.” Arthur’s being pedantic, he knows; in all honesty, he doesn’t care about any skin benefits as long as there aren’t adverse effects. So far, there’s been no recorded correlation between getting ejaculate on one’s face and breaking out with pimples; it’s as good a start as any.

Eames tugs Arthur closer to him as he squints at the screen. “What’s _human seminal plasma protein hypersensitivity?”_

“A semen allergy,” Arthur says simply, then lets out a small laugh. “Imagine being allergic to you.”

“What a shame that would be.” Eames presses a soft kiss to Arthur’s temple. “You’d need all the epinephrine in the world.”

Arthur, despite himself, rolls his eyes. “You’re not irresistible, I’ll have you know.”

Tilting Arthur up by the chin, Eames kisses him on the lips, tender and yet firm with persuasion, as if to prove Arthur wrong. “I’m resisting,” Arthur lies, smiling against his mouth.

Eames tastes like the peppermint toothpaste they share, like the familiarity Arthur has learned to live with and forgotten how to live without. Eames hums low into Arthur’s mouth as they kiss, and Arthur takes it, takes Eames’s purr of bliss and holds it close to him because there’s nothing else that feels closer to home. He relaxes into Eames’s warmth, and it’s not long before Arthur puts away his laptop, distracted, climbs onto Eames’s lap and straddles him.

Eames looks up at him with a half-smile, half-smirk. “Not irresistible, you were saying?”

He cups Eames’s face with both hands, his stubble rough and lovely beneath Arthur’s palms. “Shut up,” Arthur tells him, voice soft in a way that says ‘I love you’ more than anything else can, and seals Eames’s lips with his own.

Eames’s hands slide down from Arthur’s shoulder blades, exploratory in their sojourn, until they rest on Arthur’s hips, steady with possession that sends his toes tingling. Arthur grinds down on him, feels Eames’s lust all the way from how Eames deepens their kiss to the way his cock stirs beneath his pants, tempting the precipice, and Arthur withdraws briefly enough to ask— “Still wanna come on me?” He leans into Eames again, mouths a path along Eames’s throat, hazy with greed, as he takes and takes.

“Mmm,” Eames says. Arthur feels the sound vibrate against his lips on Eames’s skin. “A superfluous question, darling.”

“Okay,” Arthur says, branding the word against Eames’s pulse point. “I want it.”

Pausing, Eames looks at Arthur, eyes glazed with a mix of concern and desire. “Are you sure?”

“Eames, I’ve sucked your cock in twenty different ways and fucked you in twice more. This is fine.”

With a raised brow Eames says, amused, “Do you keep track of our sex life on a bloody spreadsheet?”

“No, but now that you mention it, it’s a good idea,” Arthur says, teasing, yet not entirely dismissing the notion.

Eames lets out a quiet laugh, indolent and low in his chest, and he pulls Arthur to him again. “Well, it’s a good thing there’s no limit to spreadsheets, isn’t it?”

**Author's Note:**

> Note: epinephrine is the medication used in emergencies to treat severe allergic reactions (more commonly known by the brand-name EpiPen).
> 
> My intention, upon starting this fic, was a filthy PWP. What I ended up with was a fluffy domestic bliss one-shot. I think I like it :O


End file.
